Category — music
This summer, before hanging out with my bigger-little sisters (Marianna 19 and Andrea 21, as opposed to Regina 12 and Samantha 14), George and I were trying to pick out a gift for Andrea. “Get her this CD,” George suggested. “She’ll be into it.”
Turns out, not only was he right, but we both loved it. Phoenix was new to me, though he’d already heard of them.
So, when the opportunity came to see them live October 1st at Tipitina’s in New Orleans, we jumped on it. The tickets were a bargain, we got a nice hotel for ridiculously cheap (Priceline, how I love thee, and not just for your William Shatner commercials), and the venue was tiny (ensuring a wonderful spot for enjoying the concert, no matter where we ended up), historic and picaresque: besides having been a juice bar and currently being a live music venue, it was once a brothel!
We decided to make a road trip out of it, both to be thrifty and because we love road trips. We love picking out CDs, stopping at quaint or backwater locations along the way that most people would never think to go to – a real adventure.
The day before we took off, I started feeling a little sick. Headache, sore body, tired. No big deal. Maybe something I ate? But the true proof of how I felt came the day of the road trip: I kind of slept most of the way there, my eyes burned with a fever, I had a sort of cold and cough, and general malaise. Add to that that George’s car is basically, well, a race car so the suspension is incredibly stiff. Basically, if you run over a pea, you’ll feel it. We made the 693+ mile drive in about eight hours (with stops, uh… with stops, that’s an average speed of 87mph, folks… I’m glad I was asleep), by the end of which I wanted to die, kill someone, or both.
I almost didn’t make the concert. My fever was crazy by that night, my eyes were red (making me fit right in with all the hipsters, I guess), and my body felt like it wouldn’t be able to handle it. But I braved it, all for Phoenix. And oh, was the show ever worth it…
The next morning I felt tired, but oddly invigorated: I wanted to experience New Orleans and enjoy the day and a half we had left in the city. We ventured out to the famous Café du Monde for some beignets…
I have to say, after trying them, my life will never be the same. I dream about these things, y’all. Their sugary sweetness elevated my glucose level, and gave me the tiniest bit of energy to walk around a tiny bit and find a cute little place to have lunch. I wanted something “typical”: we had gumbo, jambalaya, and étouffée. But not for loooooooooooong!
Lunch remained in my stomach all of ten minutes. The minute we rushed to the hotel, the nightmare began. Chills, sweating, delirium, fever. Pain, everywhere intense pain. I wanted to die. We spent the rest of our mini-vacay holed up in the room, George taking care of me while I vomited or sang or laughed like the crazy person that the flu had turned me into.
We drove back home, and George had a trip for work that he ended up having to cut short to come back and care for me for a week. By the time I went to the doctor, the flu was gone, but I had developed a nasty case of bronchitis. The cure, the doctor promised, was hydrating, TLC, and antibiotics/cough syrup, which I took religiously… to no avail. I started feeling better, but the cough never went away. I figured it’d be gradual, maybe that was the way it was supposed to be, or maybe as a one time smoker it would take longer for me to heal than a “normal” person.
Heal I did not. About a week ago, I started feeling horrible all over again. Stabbing pain in my chest, sore body, the cough back with a vengeance, blood in my phlegm (I know that’s the kind of tidbit everyone dreams of reading in a blog entry), wheezing, slight fever, nausea, etc. When it continued getting worse and worse, to the point where I was no longer sleeping at night, we went back to the doc.
After listening to me breathe, SEEING MY PHLEGM (being an MD is a glamorous job, people), and checking everything else out, my doctor left the exam room THREE TIMES, came back, sat down, and the first words out of his mouth were, “I don’t mean to scare you, but…”
MEN: Do not ever begin a conversation with these words. These, or, “Promise me you won’t get mad… but…” Seriously. Never. If you knew the kind of crazy that resides in our brains and you could see the millions of directions our thoughts go upon hearing this… you’d think twice. But I digress.
“I don’t mean to scare you, but I recently had a girl in here with your exact symptoms. She was taking the same medication you are (which is known for causing clotting). We did a chest x-ray; nothing showed up. Then she had a pulmonary embolism.”
“I am faxing the Cape hospital right now. I want you to go straight there, be examined by an ER doctor, and have a CT done immediately.”
I couldn’t even really react. I just nodded, we walked to the car, a couple of tears slipped out, and we were on our way.
Blood was drawn, chest x-ray was done. The ER doctor said all the tests with my bloodwork came back normal! “Except one.” What the HECK does THAT mean? So he ordered a CT.
Amusing side note: when they inject saline solution into your IV, you can taste it in your mouth. Did you know that? I did not. It was hilarious and weird. And when they inject contrast dye into your IV, you can taste the disgusting metal, your body is drowned in a wave of HOTNESS (preview of what menopause shall be like, I assume) and then you feel like you just urinated yourself. CHARMING!
Five hours in the ER later, I have acute bronchitis and asthma, folks. Asthma at 27. With George’s ginger genes, our four-eyed-ness, and our allergies/possible asthma, there is just no hope our children will ever be cool. Ever. We might as well teach them to enjoy swirlies when they’re toddlers.
So, yeah. We went to a concert. It was super fun. The end!
November 1, 2009 9 Comments
George and I found this ridiculous deal on eBay: pay less than half the retail price of Guitar Hero World Tour and get free shipping for the FULL game with all the instruments, brand new. Caveat: the box is slightly worn. Seriously? We’d been getting kind of annoyingly addicted to Rock Band III playing at Willie’s and were a little sick of playing the same songs over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over (I think you get the point) again, so we decided to click the little “Buy it now!” icon.
The package arrived yesterday in the afternoon. We create our characters and get to playing. First, let me just say. Easy guitar, Guitar Hero? EASY?! The “easy” mode on GH is equivalent to the “medium” on RB and it’s RIDICULOUS. I’m a beginner and I was going crazy-all-over-the-place. I must admit that I do now love the guitar more than ever before.
And second… BITE ME, GH. On RB I am always our singer, and on “medium” and “hard” I can give you performances in the high 90s and a couple of 100 percents here and there. On “medium” on GH? 88-93. SERIOUSLY?! Why do you kill my wannabe-rockstar ego, GH? Why, oh why?
Third: if you really like a video game and think you might waste too much time on it, my advice is DO NOT PURCHASE IT. Completely obsessed. My (social) life is over. And seriously? I played for like five minutes today and neighborhood kids kept riding their bikes past the window watching me tilt the guitar to get my star power as I played all by my lonesome and I kept thinking how fab it’d be to invite them over to play because then I could get SO MUCH MORE MONEY for each gig and then I realized, uh, that would be creepy because I am way-too-old-and-still-childless to invite neighborhood kids to my house.
So, um, anyone wanna come over and “jam”?
P.S. George just said, “Yeah, we should totally invite the neighborhood kids to play. It wouldn’t be creepy if first we went over and met their parents.” Yes. “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. So-and-so. I am here to introduce myself. No, not to socialize with you… to socialize with YOUR CHILD.” That’d go over well!
April 24, 2009 5 Comments